May 26th, 2017
I notice the sky. I see fully the sunlight that bounces off the brick buildings.
I notice the clouds. I take in the shapes that fill the limitless view above me.
I notice the birds. I feel the expansive wings that encircle my very beingness.
I notice the trees. I feel the arms of the universe surround me.
I notice that beauty encircles me, light fills me, and nature supports me.
I live in a world of sounds that teach me to be alive and present.
May 16th, 2017
I came to love 
To give more love
To receive more love
I came to love
For the great mystery
Of the language of the heart
I came to love
For the magic
And the great magicians
I came to love
To learn about living
And to appreciate the dying
I came to love
To fall more deeply
Into a connection
I came to love
Fumbling and failing
And learning from it all
I came to love
As a child, friend, spouse
Strangers known and unknown
I came to love
And it met me
And I said yes
March 23rd, 2017
And this is the place where I stand.
And this is the world where I stand.
And this is the universe where I stand.
And I breathe. 
And I breathe.
And I belong.
And I love.
And I long.
And I grieve.
And I desire.
And I remember.
And I greet again.
And again.
And this is the place where we stand.
And this is the world where we stand.
And this is the universe where we stand.
And we greet each other.
And we greet God in each other.
And we greet again.
And again.
March 21st, 2017
Breathe gently in and out.
Allow the exhale to be a little longer than the inhale.
Release any tension, worry, or anxiety with each out breath.
Allow light in any form to arrive with each in breath.
Notice how your body feels while breathing the full inhalation and exhalation.
Just notice. Be aware. Be the inner note-taker.
Welcome all the thoughts. Know the exhale will take them.
Greet the critic and the judge. Embrace them.
Breathe in and out slower and deeper.
Relax into the fullness of the inhale and exhale.
Breathe all the way down to your feet. This breath will anchor you.
Breathe all the way up to the top of your head (your crown chakra). This breath will open you to your divine connection.
Take a fuller breath. Tune into the wisdom of your heart-center.
With each breath, bridge your heart and mind.
Be the observer, the anchor, the wisdom, and the breath.
Your breath takes you where you need to be ─ right here in this moment.
Welcome home.
March 7th, 2017
As a writer, I am often looking for the “right” word. Sometimes, I am looking for any word. It is the blank page that can either become my most meditative or dreaded moment. I am known to type notes on my iPhone, scrawl words on the back of envelopes, or fill journals (dozens of them) with meditations and ideas. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing. I may not always be poetic or even grammatically correct, but the joy of writing has always superseded being a perfect writer.
When I feel stuck with writing, I read more, meditate more, and spend time in nature. I try to let go of frustration of not writing and open to what is available as my writing teacher. As my cousin in England recently wrote to me after I expressed my experience of feeling stalled in my writing:
Sometimes the river is full.
Sometimes the river runs low.
But the river is still there.
Everything has its season.
Seasons turn.
She concluded with, “Don’t give up. Keep going with your writing.”
We don’t always know who we touch with our words. So, I am going to keep writing, keep scrawling, and keep dreaming.
What keeps you going? Where do you turn when the river seems low?
November 16th, 2016
There was a time grief knocked on my heart daily. It was right after my mom passed away over 16 years ago. I remember the call from my father like it was yesterday. It was early morning and a loud ring echoed in the kitchen. I picked up the phone and heard my father’s shaky voice tell me that my mother had passed away. I dropped to my knees and sobbed. I would sob for another hour before leaving to help make funeral arrangements.
For years, I had regular visits of grief. Some visits were expected like on birthdays and anniversaries. There were other visits that would surface without reason and I would become flooded with sadness.
What I have learned from grief is that when I am seen, heard, and valued, I am able to move the sorrow into something more meaningful. I experienced this after the death of my mom when I moved beyond my own heart and was able to see, hear, and be with the suffering of others. Moving beyond my own grief and connecting with global grief taught me how to show up with love. Ten years ago I was able take my personal grief and connect it with the hearts of others through Toning the OM™, a global healing community that centers on peace and wholeheartedness. I was able to transform my deepest grief into a universal place of healing and connection.
Grief revisited again after the election last week. Every cell in my body filled with grief. My grief wasn’t just about an election; it was about the loss of human decency. I was horrified at the scenes of hatred that filled my screen daily. I was saddened to see how people were normalizing actions and speech that were/are harmful and dangerous. I was reminded of years of hate that I experienced throughout my life as a gay woman – having both verbal slurs and physical objects thrown at me. I know what it feels like to feel unsafe and to have to consciously choose where I go or where I travel so I am not physically harmed.
I know what feels like to be silenced, shamed, and despised. This election opened up wounds of deep shame and pain for many of us. And the election outcome celebrated the suffering of others. When we celebrate the pain of others, we lose our capacity to have empathy for one another.
Sixteen years ago, my grief was internal and silent. Now, my grief has a voice and a place. This grief is bigger than me. I meet this grief and I know it is time to rise, to cry, to speak, to hug, to reach out, to connect, to listen, to share, to create, and to lean in. When we take our personal grief and shift it into global healing – of ourselves, one another, and this sacred earth, we begin to shapeshift grief into inspiration – together. We must consciously choose wisdom and compassion over ignorance, even when that seems impossible.
Grief can call us into an experience of immediacy – of what’s needed now. It teaches us how to be present. It calls us to be present to our heart.
Welcome grief. Let grief be your teacher for however long you need it to be. Heavy hearts can be wonderful teachers of compassion. Grief revisited means opening to the suffering of all beings. Grief is a landscape that moves us from our own suffering into our relationship with all of humanity. As I continue to shed tears, I invite all of us to look for the spaces where global healing and connections are possible.
Grief revisted and I welcomed it home – to the heart of humanity.
This is dedicated to my mother who taught me to live a life of service to others. Also, to my spouse who sees, hears, and values me. To all those who are experiencing grief, I see you, I hear you, and I love you.
November 14th, 2016
Coming home to my heart, asking now what?
Coming home to my mind, asking now what?
Coming home to my body, asking now what?
Coming home to my faith, asking now what?
Coming home to service to others, asking now what?
Coming home to this sacred Earth, asking now what?
Reflecting. Pausing. Listening. Learning. Opening. Receiving. Giving.
Coming Home. Now what?
September 8th, 2016
It’s a Thursday night in the Catskills. Almost 400 people have traveled from around the world for a summer camp for adults, known as Camp Good Life Project (Camp GLP). The evening gathering includes an all camp bonfire, full of s’mores and singing. While most of the campers are in a team-building activity, I am in my room sorting stuff, calling home, and getting my instruments ready. I bring my djembe from home in the hopes of playing at the sing-a-long.
I walk to the area where the campfire will be as it is right near my room. A small group of folks have gathered and are trying to keep the fire lit. It had rained earlier in the day and the ground is wet. Most of the flames are now just smoke. The camp staff who lit the fire have left along with all the supplies.
The small group scrambles to get the fire lit before the massive group of campers come to gather. I bend down and hold out my hands to hold space. Campfire and all, it is still a fire. It’s sacred. The bonfire is the big kickoff for the weekend. With hands open, I send my blessings to the fire. I look to my left and a woman is bent down blowing into the open space. She starts moving sticks and creating an opening for the fire to catch. Other folks are frantically looking for a lighter, matches, anything to help keep the small flame going. There is a sense of nervousness that the fire will go out. Some suggest we use lighter fluid. A few of us look up and ask that we wait to see if we can get it going by using nature, our intention, and the wood in front of us.
Smoke – more smoke. The fire is slowly going down and what seems to be a small ember is left. Again, the offer to get lighter fluid is suggested. I look now to see my new friend Pam circling around the fire and we both agree that we ought to wait and see if we can get it going ourselves. We realize we have some paper from the s’mores to use that to help get the fire going. I start a small low chant to bless the fire and I realize more people are circling around us.
Ember – one ember. Just as it seems the fire will be out altogether, there is one spark of light. Someone calls out in the dark that there is one ember still going. A few folks blow on the ember and we open the logs a little to give it more air. The ember takes and more glow begins to light up our campfire.
Fire – we have fire. The fire grows up and out and we begin to clap and hug and laugh. Most of the campers hadn’t realized the effort to get the fire going. All the fire starters gather closer to the flame knowing it was just smoke with one small ember.
Love – we are love. It took many hands. It took patience. It took our great will to not give into the easy solution (luckily, there was no lighter fluid nearby) and to just BE with the fire. It took time for everyone gathered to realize this was more than a camp fire – this was a sacred fire. And oh, how the fire danced for us.
The lessons of the fire are always right in front of us. Just when you think everything is at its most darkest, there is always an ember of light. The fire waits for us. Our breath holds great power. Lean on one another and bear witness. From nothing is everything. From one ember – fire.
Dedicated to Pamela Slim who shared in the sacred fire ceremony. Fuego.
September 3rd, 2016
I am sitting on a cabin step in upstate New York with a woman from Vermont who I met less than 48 hours ago. We are both participants in the Camp Good Life Project (Camp GLP). It’s my third year at this summer camp for creative souls, entrepreneurs, and change-makers. It’s a weekend of wisdom, deep learning, creating, playing (color wars + dance parties), meditation, yoga classes, and an outrageous talent show. More than that, it’s a weekend of deep connections, soulful humanness, and joyful play.
As we sit eating our veggie pizza, we laugh about our experiences from the weekend. We talk about how we have witnessed being vulnerable, feeling safe, being connected to our core values, playing our hearts out, and experiencing deep love without judgment. When asked what her biggest lesson of the weekend has been, she looks me in the eye and says she is leaving with the question, “Am I brave enough to be me?” I exhale. My eyes fill with tears. Her eyes fill with tears. We just sit together and listen to the question without rushing to any outcome or answer.
The question of being brave enough to be me has been part of my meditation since leaving camp. Am I brave enough to be me? For three days at camp, the answer was a resounding yes. I felt brave enough to hug friends and strangers, to (belly) laugh, to cry with people I met for the first time, to dance and sing, to drum publicly at a bonfire, to make my own mala (prayer beads), to nap under a tree, to take long quiet walks, to watch birds and share the joy of it with campers, to listen and bear witness to stories about longing or grief or dreams, and to share my deep passions and fears.
The world has too much fear spreading and camp is a reminder that something else works – bravery. The kind of bravery that asks people to be themselves, to show up fully, and to tune into their heart and live from that place.
It takes great bravery to:
What all of these (and the many more) moments of bravery exemplified is the ability to fully show up – as is – just the way we are. It was the experience of being able to laugh and cry in the exact same breath. We can be brave and doing it afraid in the exact same moment. And we can do it together. This is what it means to connect deeply, live soulfully, and play joyfully.
Am I brave enough to be me? I take another exhale. I share with my new friend, “I needed a detox from snarkiness and cynicism.” It’s easy to be a critic; the real work is showing up and doing it afraid. Brave enough to me means fully living my values of generosity, connection, vulnerability, creativity, and spirituality.
And you? What comes up when you hear the question: Am I brave enough to be me?
This is dedicated to Jonathan and Stephanie Fields, the Camp GLP team and volunteers, all the campers and everyone living bravely.
August 29th, 2016
Sitting with compassion for others and myself led me to write this meditation:
Fill yourself up with compassion with each breath. 
What do you look like when you are living with compassion?
Show yourself some compassion right now.
Allow yourself to breathe compassion into your whole body.
Notice your body and breathe even more compassion.
Let compassion move your hands to your heart.
How are you transmitting compassion to yourself?
What is your message of compassion today?
Listen to compassion.
Take a deeper breath in and out.
Breathe compassion. Again. And again.
When you see the world with compassion, what’s possible?
And take a nice big breath.
Be compassionate to youself, always.
Beam compassion with every interaction.
And so it is.
As Pema Chödrön writes, “Just as nurturing our ability to love is a way of awakening bodhichitta, so also is nurturing our ability to feel compassion. Compassion, however, is more emotionally challenging than loving-kindness because it involves the willingness to feel pain. It definitely requires the training of a warrior.
When we practice generating compassion, we can expect to experience our fear of pain. Compassion practice is daring. It involves learning to relax and allow ourselves to move gently toward what scares us. The trick to doing this is to stay with emotional distress without tightening into aversion, to let fear soften us rather than harden into resistance.”
Stay with your breath. Stay with yourself. Stay with compassion.